


Threatened

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Bleak, Canon Era, M/M, Post canon, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Jack’s father is out of prison, and everything has gone to hell. Jack has told David never to visit him at his home, but David decides to investigate anyway.





	Threatened

Jack’s apartment was in a bad part of town. Sometimes he told David that this was because it was all he could afford. At other times he told David that it was because places like that were just where people like him lived or that all the filth and the corruptionhe surrounded himself with didn’t matter, because he wasn’t going to ever amount to much anyway. 

Jack never told David how he was spiraling lower and lower out of a sheer and stubborn determination to destroy himself, nor did he have the self-awareness to admit that his father’s release from prison was a big part of why this was happening, but David was smart enough to figure out some things on his own.

Jack always told David not to come looking for him around his place, not under any circumstances. He’d even, initially, tried not telling David where he lived, but he’d spoiled his own secret by giving his address to Blink, who’d just passed it on to David anyway. The street that Jack lived on was officially called Mulberry Lane, and unofficially known as Bandits’ Roost. David assumed that the unofficial name was more accurate… Mulberries were hard to come by in the slums and tenements, after all.

This information, about Mulberry Lane and the location of Jack’s house, David quietly stored away. He wanted to go, but he waited, not so much out of respect for Jack’s wishes, but because he worried that Jack’s desire to keep him away was more personal than he let on. He tried to keep abreast of what went on in that area of the city, and it wasn’t hard when the newspapers kept reporting killings and robberies. Often times the victims weren’t important enough to be named, and David had to fight the urge to go and investigate on his own. 

Jack came to eat dinner with the Jacobs family on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but he wasn’t Jack any more. He didn’t shave, and no matter how much food David’s mama tried to send him home with, he still kept getting thinner and thinner. He didn’t smile like he used to. He and David fought as often as they spoke. 

One Tuesday he didn’t come, but he sent Mush over to keep David company. On Thursday nobody came at all, and it was the same the following Tuesday and the Thursday after that it was only Mush again (which David felt guilty for resenting as much as he did. Mush was his friend too, after all.)

On Friday morning before work, David read about some more killings in the paper, stuff gruesome enough that he couldn’t even make himself think about it from the perspective of the newsies, who would be happy to have good headline for once. He decided that after work he would go and see for himself what was going on.

There were a dozen manuscripts on David’s desk when he got into his office that day. He’d found a job a few months back at a book publishing company that sometimes called itself “The Volcano”, sometimes called itself “Pearl Press”, and sometimes called itself “Scientific New York”, depending on what variety of trash it was attempting to sell to the general public. All of the books of little or no worth, but with divergent enough subject matter that they mustn’t seem to have all been put out by the same company, with the Volcano being sensational fiction, Scientific New York being quack theories, and Pearl Press concerning itself mostly with orgies and lurid descriptions of human anatomy. It was David’s job to read through the stories to make sure that they didn’t contain any particularly egregious spelling or grammatical errors by the time they were released. 

Starting with the Scientific New York pile, David picked up an article called “Phrenology: the Practice and Practical Uses of”, which detailed the ways in which you could predict your friends’ futures by measuring the size of their skulls. There were plenty of errors in it, but David was too distracted to catch most of them. At five o’clock he threw that manuscript and a couple of others into his bag to look over later. He knew that muggings happened sometimes in Jack’s neighborhood, so he locked away the dollar and seventeen cents he’d been carrying around in his desk. After a moment’s thought, he put his tie in the desk alongside it, and left his coat draped over his chair. The less he had, and the less he appeared to have, the better. 

David was glad that it was light out when he left, and even gladder that it was still light out by the time he arrived. Under the bright blaze of the sun, the lanes and allies of Mulberry Street looked almost like any other lanes and allies in the city. The apartment buildings, with strings of laundry hanging out the windows, could have been David’s own home. Some of the windowsills had vine patterns pressed into the crumbling concrete, as though somebody had once meant for them to be idyllic and pretty. 

There was a smell in the air… something wet and putrid, like a cross between stale gutter water and human waste. The people who David saw stared at him, but David told himself that this was normal. He wasn’t from this street, and it wasn’t the kind of place that you wandered through as part of a New York tour.

David took a few turns, hoping to find where Jack was living. One thing that Mulberry Street had against it, other than the smell and the increasingly suspicious residents, was that tenements weren’t clearly numbered.

A hand gripping the back of David’s vest made him jump, but when he turned around it was just a dirty kid with a pile of papers and a newsboy’s cap. The sight of him made David relax like nothing else could have. If it was safe for newsies to sell on this street…. Well, maybe it wasn’t as bad an area for David to be in as he’d feared. 

“You want a pape or not?” the kid asked. No wheedling with this one, he just got right to the point. David reached into his pockets for a coin before remembering he didn’t have one on him. 

“Maybe another time,” he said apologetically. He took a few steps, and the boy followed him. 

“You ain’t gonna be here another time,” the kid said.

“Why are you so sure?” Asked David.

“’Cause you looks like you’se gotten yourself lost. Hey, if you give me ten cents I’ll guide you down to the Central Park Zoo.”

David couldn’t help but laugh at that. “The Zoo?” He repeated incredulously. The boy shrugged.

“Well… well yeah. The zoo. It’s the nicest place I ever been in this city. I snuck in once. You looks like you could afford a ticket. You should go there. You is lost, ain’t you? You shouldn’t come here wearing clothes like that.” 

David looked down at his clothes, which could not have been plainer and more ordinary… at least for somebody with an office job. They’d blend in most places, but maybe not here. 

“I am a little lost,” David admitted. The kid flashed him a knowing grin. “I’m looking for building number eighty-six. I’ve got a friend who lives there. On the twelfth floor. Do you know where it is?” 

“A friend, huh? You got anything good in that bag of yours?” 

David had to dodge to the side to keep the kid from grabbing onto his bag. He took a step back, placing a hand over the opening. The kid laughed. 

“Tell you what. Anything you came down here to buy, I’ll get for you at half price. Just how much dough do you have on you anyways? That’s a big bag.” 

“I didn’t bring any,” David said, tone hardening. “And I’m not trying to buy anything.” 

“Hey, hey…” the kid said, putting up his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t judge for nothing. My name’s Roach, and I got connections. I’ll get you what you want, and get you oughta here real quick like. You just gotta help me out.” 

The kid, Roach, made another grab at David’s bag, and David had to spin away quickly to keep him out of it. 

“Stop it,” David ordered. The only thing keeping him from pushing the boy to the ground was that he was tiny, not much bigger than Les had been when they’d first gone out to try their hand at selling papers all those years ago. Roach made another grab for David’s bag, and then another. They weren’t so difficult to avoid, but the more David did it, the sillier he felt. Besides, this was bound to attract unwanted attention sooner or later, if it hadn’t already. 

“Here, here… I’ll show you what’s inside, just stop,” David said, taking advantage of a pause in Roach’s swift movements to open his bag up wildly. “See?” David said. “There’s no money in here. It’s just paper work. You don’t want it. Trust me.” 

“What kind of idiot are you, coming down here with a bag of stupid paper work?” Roach spat out. He was trying to sound angry, but his voice trembled like he might burst into tears or something. David tried to understand. Maybe the kid had just been trying to steal from him, but he was starving more likely than not, and disappointed at the loss of a possible meal. That didn’t mean that David wasn’t angry, but a part of him understood. 

“I’d be even more of an idiot if I’d come down here with a bag of money,” David said. He shouldered his bag again, adjusting the strap back over his shoulder and dusting himself off. He started to walk away from Roach, moving more quickly than he had before. 

“Hey!” Roach called after him. “But you gotta have food at least. You’ve got food, right, hidden under your paper works? If you have I’ll show you where number eighty-six is. It’s past supper, and ain’t nobody gonna buy the morning edition at this point in the day.” 

“Good for you that you have those side businesses,” David said, then mentally berated himself for it. He’d known his share of hungry little kids. He’d only barely managed not to be one of them himself, at times. 

“I was just kidding about those. I sell ‘papes. Don’t got any other business than that, and when the headlines are lousy well… I ain’t eaten in… um… about twenty-one days, I reckon.” 

“Twenty-one days?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t have any food with me,” David said. 

The kid glowered at the floor.

“Listen…” David tried. “Do you know the Horace Greeley Statue, near the Newsboys’ Lodging House on Duane Street?” 

Roach nodded. 

“Show me where number eight-six is tonight. I’ll meet you there tomorrow. I’ll bring you something to eat…and some money. You can stay at the Duane Street Lodging house for a few days. I know the man who runs it, and a couple of the older boys there. It’s a good place, and if you make friends with the others, they’ll never let you go hungry for long. Try selling around there.” 

Roach looked up at him, seeming to consider for a moment. “I don’t need friends and I got a place to sleep.”

“But you need food? And money? I’m not rich, but I can help you out either way.”

“I wanna full dollar for my troubles. And… um… meat. Don’t care what kind. Just not rotten.”

“I’ll give you seventy-five cents,” David said. “And meat. I’ll throw in some other food too. Nothing spoiled, I promise.” 

Roach pretended to consider. “Number eight-six, right? Twelfth floor,” he asked finally. “Which room?” 

“Room number three.” 

Roach laughed, “Sure. I’ll take you. If you don’t keep up your end of the bargain Frank’ll open you up and chop out your gizzard. Well, Little Frank will. Big Frank will just as likely cut out my gizzard for showing strangers where he lives. Hey, you gotta make sure not to mention me to anyone who lives there, excepting Larry and Little Frank. They ain’t so bad. Are you sure you want to go to that house?”

“I’m sure,” David answered, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut at the kid’s list of names. 

****

Roach warned David not to go into Jack’s building through the front entrance, and to walk quickly up the fire escape past the first through fourth floors without looking in any of the windows if he knew what was good for him. This proved harder than expected. Quite a few of the steps on the metal staircase David was trying to climb had rusted through, or had otherwise disappeared. The gaps were irregular and unpredictable, some of them as many as three steps long. Even a few of the steps that looked present and stable creaked under David’s feet like they were going to fall away. David wondered if this was something that Jack had gotten used to and memorized, so that he could traverse the fire-escape quickly at any time of night or day, and if this was something anybody really could get used to. He gripped the banister tightly as he walked. 

The first three third floors were silent. David obediently kept his eyes trained away from the windows, and kept up the best pace that he could. He could hear voices coming out of one of the rooms on the fourth floor, but he couldn’t make out what was being said, or if it was in English. He kept walking. A near stumble on the eleventh floor left David’s legs feeling rubbery and strange. It was getting darker by the minute, but he could still see clearly enough to know that if he fell through, he’d be going a long way down. 

The last flight of steps seemed to take the longest of all, and at one point David had to stretch himself across a gap where he was sure four or five steps were meant to be. At last he came to a window, though, which led into a filthy room where five or six filthy men sat or lay down in various states of repose. David knocked on the window. One of the men, who was laying on a blanket on the floor, rolled over to face the wall. Another pair started arguing about who should go look at the window, or whether they should shoot first and ask questions later. David decided it would be better to open the window himself, so he could get a word in and let whoever was inside know that he wasn’t a threat. Surely just turning to go would seem even more suspicious.

The window wasn’t locked. In retrospect that was probably a bad sign. It most likely meant that whoever was inside had full confidence in their ability to take on an intruder far more formidable than David was feeling at the moment. 

“I’m looking for Frank,” David called. It was a good thing he’d met Roach before coming here, and knew which name Jack was apparently using now. He’d thought about it throughout most of the trip up, when he wasn’t worrying about losing his footing.

The man who had rolled on his blanket earlier sat up. 

“No rest for the weary, eh Frank?” One of the other guys called out to him. The man swore under his breath, but his face, when he leaned out the window to talk to David, wasn’t terribly threatening. 

“What d’ya want?” he asked, rubbing wearily at his eyes, which were dark and bloodshot. 

“Um… Little Frank. Sullivan. You’re his father, aren’t you?” David asked.

“He ain’t in,” the man said, making as if to shut the window. David pushed the glass back up.

“I can wait for him.” 

“Get in.” 

David had to scramble to keep on his feet, as Frank Sullivan yanked him into the room by his shoulder. He quickly found himself standing in the center of the room, with Frank circling him in a way that might have felt predatory, Frank had looked something other than bored and sleepy. 

“What’s in the bag?” Frank asked. 

“Paper work.” David’s voice was deadpan, resigned. He opened up the bag to show the other man, figuring that he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t. 

Frank laughed, “Mind if I have a look?” He asked. His laugh was harsh, but the question was surprisingly reasonable. David was tempted to say no, because he’d decided long before meeting Frank Sullivan that he didn’t like him, but when he thought of it there was no real reason to refuse. 

“Knock yourself out,” David said, trying to sound casual. The thing was, whenever he tried to sound casual, he always found himself copying turns of phrases he’d first heard from Jack. ‘Knock yourself out’ was the kind of thing that Jack might say, but David normally never would. Maybe that was a good thing, though, given the circumstances. David handed his bag over to Frank, who squinted at a few pages of an unedited penny sensation story, before tossing David’s bag into the corner of the room, and the story after it, scattering the pages everywhere. 

“Looks like a pile of shit,” Frank said. 

David glanced over towards the mess Frank had made. That would cost him at least an hour later tonight. He had to force himself not to go over and start picking it up right away. 

“Matches the home decor,” David heard himself say. “You might as well keep it.” 

“Jesus Dave….”

Whatever Frank had meant to say was cut off, as Jack chose that moment to roll out of the bed he’d been lying in up until that moment, cocooned in a stained blanket that had probably seen better days. Jack didn’t even look at him, but went straight over to David’s bag, leaning over to stuff the papers back into it. David broke the gaze he’d been holding with Frank, to go over to kneel next to Jack. 

“Get tired of pretending not to be here?” David hissed. Jack shoved his bag at his chest.

“Shut up,” he said, and to his father, “He don’t got any business here. Just somebody who thinks I owes him something. Like that kid Roach. A pest. I’ve got myself a whole bunch of ‘em.” 

So that’s what Jack was calling his friends now. David looked from Jack to his father, to the other guys around the room. “We’ve got to talk,” he said, his voice quiet but hard, because he didn’t think he’d get another chance, and he wasn’t about to let his trip here go to waste. Maybe it had just started out as needing to see if Jack was okay, but how was he supposed to know that if he didn’t even talk to him? Besides, David doubted that Jack was, even if he was physically sound. Maybe he didn’t even deserve to be. 

“You’re an idiot,” Jack said. “And now I’m stuck walkin’ you home, because you won’t stand a chance out there at night. Damned waste of time.”

Jack’s voice was harsh, but he looked straight at David while he spoke, and gave his bag another shove, holding contact maybe a second too long this time. 

“Better not,” Frank said. “You’ll wanna rest up for tonight. Larry’ll take him.” 

A man in the corner of the room, who had been playing a game of solitaire, stood up the second he heard his name mentioned. Jack stood up to, pulling David up with him by the arm. 

“He lives over on Baker Street. Number sixty one. Same as my pal Blink. They’s roommates,” Jack said, giving David’s arm a squeeze before releasing it. That was enough to tell David something about Larry right away; Jack didn’t want him around David’s family. 

“Thought Blink’s roommate was some guy named…” Larry started, scratching his head, from which hung a length or scraggly graying hair. 

“He’s got two roommates, numbskull,” Jack interrupted, pushing David over towards him. “Besides, we ain’t paying you to ask questions. You’ll burn your brain out with all this thinkin’ you’se doing.”

“You also ain’t paying me to play tour guide to simpletons in pretty suits,” Larry spat back. “When is the last time you paid me anyways? Your friend got any money to pay me with?” 

“Take your fill of the paper work and anything else you want off him as payment,” Frank offered. 

“He don’t got anything,” Jack said. “Empty your pockets Mouth. See? Nothin’ there.”

“I don’t want no fucking paper work,” Larry spat. 

“Fine, if you’re too lazy to get off your ass and take him, I’ll fucking take him back,” Jack yelled right back at Larry. He grabbed onto David then, like he was desperate to get him out before anybody could argue with him, and practically pushed him out the window. 

That’s how David found himself running in the dark down the steps of the fire escape that he’d walked so uncertainly earlier that evening. In all rights, David figured, the journey should have killed him, but Jack held him tightly by the arm the whole way down, and he managed to make it without crashing to his death. 

That wasn’t to say that everything was alright. By the time he was at the bottom of the stairs his left ankle screamed with pain every time he put weight on it, and the worst part was that he wasn’t even entirely sure what had happened to it during their flight, and when. 

“Buck up, David,” Jack said when David winced. He stopped running, but kept up a brisk pace, hardly looking at David as they walked. 

“What the hell Jack…” David started, but Jack just told him to shut up. 

“You picked a fine night to show up,” Jack whispered to him, about twenty minutes into their walk.

“What’s happening tonight?” David asked, but Jack just told him to shut up again.

“I’ll talk to you some other time, when I’m not so angry I want to kill you,” Jack snarled. “But you can’t come to my place again, and I ain’t goin’ to yours anymore neither. I’ll get a message to you through one of the others. Mush or Blink.” 

“Because they’re strong enough to deal with your new lifestyle and I’m not?” David asked, his voice challenging. Jack didn’t even answer him. There were plenty of questions that David still wanted to ask him, but in light of what he’d seen tonight, they all seemed whiny at best, and histrionic at worst. Besides, he’d done nothing but fight with Jack lately. Fighting with Jack never got him anything that he wanted. 

Even though it was Jack taking David home, they still ended up at Blink and Mush’s small apartment. Blink said hi to Jack like nothing was out of the ordinary. Mush looked worried. 

“It’d be better if you stayed here tonight,” Jack said. “I’ll have Mush go tell your Mama where you is.” 

“Why?” David asked. “Do you think we’re being followed? What’s even going on that you don’t think you can leave your house with another person without getting followed?” 

“Look,” Jack said. He didn’t sound angry any more. He sounded small and deflated. “My Pa ain’t going to like it if I don’t come back with something of yours so… just… take off your shoes and your shirt and give ‘em over.” He looked down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck, in a way that almost made David feel sorry for him.

Almost.

David didn’t act right away, instead just watching Jack incredulously. Blink and Mush were no help. They just stood still and stared. 

“If you don’t do it, my Pa’s going to think you’re important to me, and we don’t want that, neither of us.” 

“Why would he think that?” David asked. “It isn’t true, obviously.” It was the most viscous thing David had said all day, and he knew it from the way that Mush looked away from him. 

“Dave, just….” 

David shook his head. “You better get home, Frank. You’ve got things to do tonight, right?” 

Mush took a pair of worn shoes out of a drawer ready to give them to Jack, but Jack just shook his head, waving him off, before he climbed out the window.


End file.
